


If we met at midnight

by triggeringthehealing (froggydarren)



Series: FullmoonFiclet Entries [74]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Claudia Stilinski, Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Gen, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Young Derek, Young Stiles, well technically it is it's just a Polish version
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:58:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10712664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/pseuds/triggeringthehealing
Summary: Their kingdom is small, dependent on alliances with their neighbours. When Stiles was barely ten, the strongest one was forged again, with the Hales of the Wolf Kingdom. He was too young to be anything but a bystander, but he remembers the night they met.





	If we met at midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Full Moon Ficlet](http://fullmoon-ficlet.livejournal.com/481703.html) challenge on Livejournal - prompt #220: correspondence
> 
> Title is from Hanging Tree from the Hunger Games soundtrack.

It was only ever meant to be letters. Rectangles of paper sealed with wax, containing sheets filled with words carefully written out with ink and quill. Missives carried across the border by messengers sworn to secrecy, the contents and existence kept away from prying and disapproving eyes. 

And they were nothing but letters for years. Simple, easy, without gravity and free of consequence. Just words exchanged between people who knew almost nothing of each other before the first message crossed borders. 

When Stiles sits down to write, it’s with the memory of the ball that started it all. The last one that his mother attended before falling ill, the one that he went to willingly, despite the need to dress up in clothes he found restricting. He danced with her, even though he was barely ten years old and nowhere near tall enough or skilled enough to be a worthy dance partner. She never let him believe that though, always whispered into his ear that she preferred dancing with him than anyone else, Stiles’ father included.

“Your father steps on my toes,” she’d say, smiling fondly, then she’d laugh when Stiles would look down on where  _ he _ was standing on her toes to make him that little bit taller. 

It was an important night. The ball was held to celebrate an alliance with the kingdom in the north, the Wolf Kingdom as Stiles knew it. His father spent most of it conferring with Queen Talia of the Hales, leaving his mother free to entertain Stiles, whom they knew to get bored at functions. 

When Claudia got drawn into a conversation with the Hales’ eldest daughter Laura, Stiles snuck out into the gardens. The night was growing long and the function boring, since most children had been sent to their beds by then. Stiles, as the hosts’ offspring, had been given a later bedtime than usual, and he was planning to make the most of it. There was a spot in the garden he’d rarely seen at night, only allowed there in the company of his parents, and he headed straight for it when he slipped out of the ballroom. 

He walked down the torch lit path, then into the darkness when he reached the end. The corner of the garden he was going to was off limits at night to anyone, though his mother brought him there a few times, and he knew that his parents visited it occasionally -- he’d seen them from his window when he couldn’t sleep. 

Stiles knew what was past the rose arch at the end of the path, and yet he was still trembling in anticipation when he walked through. Even during the day, it always felt like he was walking into a different world, into somewhere magical and not yet discovered. At night, it looked even more so.

The tree was looming over the open space, casting shadows as the moonlight tried to slip past the leaves and branches. Around the thick trunk, Stiles could see the flickering lights of fireflies that made the place look ethereal, bewitching. It was why he snuck out here, to see it without disturbing the peace with chatter -- whenever he was here with his mother, they’d taken to telling each other stories of fairies and witches and sparks. 

He was too mesmerised by the play of shadows and light to spot the boy who sat on the rock just out of Stiles’ line of sight. When he did, surprise was quickly pushed out of the way for protectiveness and caution.

“Hey, you shouldn’t be here,” Stiles said, barely louder than a whisper. 

The boy didn’t respond, but looked at Stiles like he’d wanted to say the same right back. There was just enough light cast on the boy’s face that Stiles recognised him. 

“You’re a Hale…” he said. “Derek.” 

He saw the nod, but still no words of acknowledgment or any sign that Derek knew who Stiles was. It was impossible to not know, the Hale family had been introduced to the Stilinskis a long time ago, and then again whenever new members came for visits or negotiations. 

But it was clear that Derek didn’t want to talk, and that was just fine with Stiles, since he came here to experience the place in silence. He spared one more glance to his companion, and then walked over to the tree trunk. When he sat down on the ground between the protruding roots, it felt like the fireflies took notice. Stiles lifted his hands towards them and a few of them flickered as they moved closer to his fingers. 

When the tips of his fingers tingled and let out a few sparks, he heard the intake of breath from the rock where Derek was sitting. 

“You’re magic,” Derek whispered then, low enough that Stiles almost missed it.

This time it was Stiles who refused to respond, and he focused back on the hints of magic that he knew he had, but hadn’t learned to wield just yet. Minutes passed, and Stiles amused himself with sparking back at the fireflies as he watched them approach and them fly away again. 

He was about to lie down on the ground to watch the play of the moonlight and fireflies between the branches when he heard Derek moving. 

“Mietek!” 

Stiles scrambled off the ground and turned around sharply, coming face to face with his father. 

“You’ll be the death of me one day.” 

“I’m sorry, father,” Stiles said meekly, but he knew he didn’t sound convincing at all. 

“Come on, your mother’s been looking for you,” King Janusz said.

When Stiles looked up, it wasn’t him whom his father was looking at, but Derek. 

“My apologies,” Derek said quietly. “I needed a little bit…” 

“I understand, son, but you should head back now. Your family was looking to retire to their chambers.” 

Derek nodded and slipped past the King, vanishing in the darkness with only a glance back at Stiles, failing to disguise the soft smile on his lips. Stiles smiled back, but the smile faded when he looked at his father’s disapproving face. 

“Come on, it’s time for you to sleep, Mietek.” 

Stiles frowned at his father’s use of his given name, far fonder of the nickname that his mother has been using since he was little. But he followed his father down the path and to the castle. 

He asked his mother to help him with the first letter the day after the Hales left. 

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://froggydarren.tumblr.com/) || [my sterek fic tumblr](http://triggeringthehealing.tumblr.com/)


End file.
